Ask Fics
by thebeautifullydisturbed
Summary: All of these prompts were requested on Tumblr, and I am posting them here as well. These prompts range from JayTim, JayDick, BruDick, BruJay, DickTim, BruTim, dD, and Tommy/Jay (Hush/Jason). In order to prompt, please refer to my tumblr (the-beautifully-disturbed) and read the rules on my blog. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy my work!
1. Worth It

**captain-unidentified**** asked you:**

[NEW PROMPT- a universe where everything is ok and no one dies] Jaytim- Sweater shopping date. (There was a post going around about this. But if you didn't see it, then:) Tim really likes old sweaters ok. Particularly if they smell like Jason. How he acquired so many the world will never know

* * *

**Worth It**  
_Jason/Tim_

Sometimes, Tim didn't even understand why he brought Jason along when he went shopping for fall clothes, a.k.a. sweater shopping. All the man ever did was basically insult his entire taste in clothing. It could be a bit exasperating at times. But at least he got to make fun of Jason just as much.

"That's just ghastly."

"It's quality leather, Tim."

"With fifty chains attached."

"It's stylish, okay."

"So you _want_ to sound like Santa's sleigh?"

"You're such a cunt, you know that?"

"Ew. Just ew."

"Jason, you don't even know which one I'm looking at."

"They're all so hideous, though."

"I thought you'd still love me no matter what I wear or like."

"I'll stop if it means you're going to wear _that_ around."

"Hey, could you wear this?"

"Jason, that's not a sweater."

"Like hell it's not."

"Jason, that's a _thong_."

"At least it's prettier than what you're holding.

Tim seriously didn't know what he was doing bringing Jason along. He knew Jason was dreading it and so wasn't Tim. But he hadn't been able to spend much time with the older man of late and this was all they had. And he'd make the most of it, even if it would be filled with bickering about their own fashion tastes.

"This has to be the ugliest fucking sweater I've ever seen," Jason declared as he held the sweater at arm's length, a look of disgust on his face.

"Jason, it's vintage," Tim argued.

"_It has fucking reindeer. Reindeer_."

"Christmas is coming up fairly quickly," was all Tim said before he snatched it from Jason's hands and replaced it on the hanger before he continued looking through the sweaters. Jason just flicked his hand over the clothing in distaste.

"Why do you even need to buy more? You have like an entire fucking wardrobe full of them." Tim only shrugged as he pulled out a long sleeve sweater that was a soft tan in color, and the length of it suggested that it would barely reach Tim's middle thighs, and the sleeves would be so long that he'd need to roll them up. And Jason realized he wouldn't mind seeing that.

He ended up paying for the sweater himself, saying it was an early Christmas gift.

* * *

Tim sat on the couch with a mug of warm hot cocoa between his hands, the only light in the room was the soft flicker of a tame flame in the fireplace. Tim's knees were tucked to his chest, feet perched on the couch as he sat with face half buried in the long neck of the sweater he was wearing. The soft fibers smelled strongly of Jason, which had a calming effect on him now. He wished all of his sweaters smelled like Jason. Half of the time, he'd slip the sweaters into Jason's bag or just leave them at Jason's home so they'd being to smell like him. Then Jason would come back and ask Tim why he always ends up with his sweaters. But it was worth it, seeing as it also gave him an excuse to see the older man. He smiled behind the collar when he felt a hand grip his shoulder from behind, but he made no other move.

The sweater was soft under his hand, regardless of how much he hated the sweaters. Well, some. Jason just couldn't understand Tim's sense of taste. Some of them were just hideous, but as long as Tim was happy with them, he supposed. He ran his hand along the sleeve of the sweater before running down his chest. Jason knew how much Tim loved his scent in the clothing, and sometimes he felt that the entire thing was surreal. But he'd smile to himself when no one was looking because Tim was just so goddamn _cute_.

Jason's hand trailed up to the boy's chin and tilted his face up so he could press a soft, lingering kiss to the raven-haired boy's lips.

And Jason can't wait to see Tim's face when he opens that box on Christmas morning to find a handmade sweater that Jason spent five months knitting. He even suffered through constant teasing from Dick and the brat with them questioning his masculinity.

But it'll be worth it.


	2. Fairytales

**Anonymous asked you:**

I have an itch for some possible JayDick? Raising son tiny Tim? Im not sure if your prompts are still open but it not then it's all good. Thank you!

* * *

**Fairytales**  
_JayDick_

They weren't a perfect family by any means. Dick was practically banned from the kitchen unless he was heating up a Kid's Cuisine, and even then he somehow always managed to burn the edges of the brownie. But that's okay because Tim preferred them that way.

Jason, on the other hand, had a habit for simply leaving things 'out' due to his carefree demeanor. Tim was always so curious for his quiet stature, but when he got his hands on the glistening glock that Jason had left out on the coffee table, it happened to turn into the greatest game of Indians and Cowboys.

Even though the gun wasn't loaded, Dick made Jason sleep on the couch for a week. Though Jason was concerned that Tim had been so fascinated with the glock, he'd never admit it. He tried to keep Tim away from his weapons as much as possible after that.

They're completely dysfunctional as a family, let alone as individuals. Jason didn't even want Tim; he didn't want a son. He and Dick weren't even exactly dating either. They were just a good time here and there that had gradually become a more frequent rendezvous. Jason was possessive as Dick was obsessed. They weren't perfect in any shape or form and they always had something to argue about.

* * *

"_Jason, I can talk to who I want."_

"_Yeah, so you can fucking whore yourself around? Sure, first thing on my list."_

"_Fucking Christ, will you stop touching me and just leave me the hell alone?"_

"_It's called a hug, Jason."_

"_All you ever do is sway your pretty little ass out on the field like it's your stage, and shit, what a disgusting way to go about getting attention."_

"_Like you're any different. But seriously, Jason? You've had this stick up your ass since the day you came back. Just drop this issue with Bruce, okay? You're driving everyone insane by using us all for your cathartic needs."_

"_Dick! What the hell? No lap dances while I'm sick, you fucking ass."_

"_Oh, sorry. Just figured I'd return the favor after you left me alone last night."_

* * *

Their fights aren't always serious. Some are so stupid that they just stare at each other and then start throwing jibes about the entire occurrence. Others are heated and end up with them falling into bed together as a mutual truce.

Tim wasn't exactly an accident; he couldn't be labeled as such, and Jason knows this. It was more of an incident that he couldn't really say "no" to. The two of them had been out patrolling through Gotham since Nightwing had decided to drop by for a visit. It was raining that night, and the two of them somehow dived right into yet another heated argument. Neither of them quite remembers what it was about, so they deduced that it was trivial.

And Dick happened to turn his gaze to the side just in time to see a small figure watching the two of them with wide blue eyes. Dick froze from where he stood, staring down at the drenched child as Jason continued to yell at him.

"What the _hell_, Dick? Are you even listening to me?" Jason had hissed, a scowl on his face, before he, too, turned his eyes to see why Dick was currently so captivated. And he paused as well, the tension sagging from his shoulders as his scowl disappeared. The two of them felt rooted to the ground as they stared at the small boy whose clothes clung to his frail figure, which seemed to weigh him down as well.

Dick didn't even realize he had been holding his breath until he exhaled sharply, never once taking his eyes away from those piercing baby blues; he wasn't sure he could if he tried. With pursed lips, he took a step towards the child, wincing with the young boy as he flinched and took a step back. The older man retaliated by kneeling down and holding out a hand to him.

"Hey, it's okay. We're not going to hurt you. Are you lost?" he asked in a soft tone. The boy only shook his head, hugging himself with his pale fingers that were slowly turning blue, as he looked from the outstretched hand to Jason and then back to Dick. "Do you want to go back home? We can take you there." The boy shook his head again, this time more firmly, and Jason saw it. He saw it in those lonely, scared eyes.

"He doesn't have a home," he murmured before sighing heavily. He felt uncomfortable when the boy's eyes flickered up to him, and he cleared his throat gruffly while stuffing his hands in his pockets and scuffing the ground with his boots.

Dick just looked at the boy sadly, yet there was still an inviting smile on his lips. "What's your name?"

"Tim," he uttered after a while. His answer made Dick smile brightly, his dark locks sticking to his cheeks and cupping his face.

"Hey, Tim. Why don't you come stay with us for a while? We'll keep you safe." Jason had spluttered in response, completely flustered, before he hissed at him.

"The hell, Dick? I'm not a part of this. He's not staying with me," he glowered.

"Jason, we can't just leave him here," the older man countered.

"But we can't just raise a kid either," he argued.

"He could stay at your place. Your apartment's bigger after all."

"Are you kidding me? We don't even live together. Dick, just stop," Jason grunted. No way was he taking care of a kid. He wasn't exactly parent material.

"Would you rather have me take him to an orphanage so he can end up out on the streets committing crimes? Or perhaps I should take him to Bruce?" he stated with venom laced in his voice. The odds were that if Jason and Dick took this child in themselves, even if only for a little bit, the chances of him growing up as normal and happily as possible were higher. And Dick knew that Jason realized this from his growl and glare marring his features.

"_Fine_," he hissed before turning around and pushing his soaked hair back from his forehead. "Just fucking great," he muttered under his breath. Dick returned his gaze to Tim and the soft smile returned.

"C'mon, it's okay. We won't hurt you. Jason's just a big grumpy pants anyway," he assured him, gesturing for him to take his hand. Tim slowly inched forward with a wary expression, watching them both carefully, and he eventually grabbed Dick's hand gently. And Dick pulled him closer to him, wrapping his strong arms around the child to provide some warmth.

"Let's take you home."

That's how it all began. Jason was completely adamant about Tim staying in his apartment, but Dick was always stopping by to care for Tim, so it wasn't like Jason could complain much. It had become such a common occurrence that they don't even remember when Dick had fully moved in. It started with a pair of clothes here and there, his toothbrush, his cereal once in a while because Jason was just so cheap with brands, and then eventually, all of his stuff ended up in Jason's apartment. It was natural for Dick to make a pot of coffee before Jason woke up so he could have something to help him wake up. It was common on every Sunday morning for Jason to get up early and cook breakfast for all of them, making sure Tim always got some extra bacon. It was so simple for Jason to brush Dick's bangs out of his face while he slept and kiss his forehead to wake him up. And it was so accustomed for Dick to kiss Tim's cheeks and forehead goodnight before he turned on his nightlight before he let him fall asleep for the night.

They were the definition of domestic.

Dick knew Jason struggled sometimes though. It wasn't a secret that Jason thought Tim preferred Dick. The older man would easily reject the idea because, really, Tim admired that man so much. He'd trail after him, even hide his boots whenever he thought Jason might go out without taking him with. He'd even mimic the way Jason drank his coffee: three sugars and five tabs of creamer. It was blatantly obvious that Tim loved Jason just as much as he loved Dick, so he wasn't exactly sure on where Jason's viewpoint was. He also knew that Jason always acted like he didn't really care for Tim, but every now and then when Dick was gone, he'd come back to find either Tim and Jason asleep with the boy wrapped in his arms, or they're just playing around. Jason's never smiled and laughed so much in his life.

And Dick can't help but smile to himself and lean against the frame of the door as Tim sits on Jason's lap as he holds a book in front of them, telling a fairytale in his own amusing way.

"Dad's a total Peter Pan," Tim says as he points to the picture. He looks young, he's cheerful, he's playful, everything Peter Pan is.

"Yeah, I suppose," Jason says with a shrug.

"So that would make you Wendy."

"Who, whoa, _whoa._ Are you saying I'm a girl, little bird?" he asks incredulously, eyebrows arched in question.

"Well, I'm not saying you're a guy," Tim replies evenly. Such a sharp tongue for someone so innocent.

"Hey, I do not go around saying '_Oh, Dick' _in a fancy British accent and shit," he huffed.

"But you could," Tim points out.

"Dick's more likely to do that. That flamboyant, well, dick," Jason mused as he turned the page.

"But you love him, right?" Tim asked so innocently with those bright blue eyes. And Jason's softened as he looked down at him, and with a soft smile he ruffled his hair.

"Yeah, kid. I do. And you know who else I love?" he asked, his own heartbeat quickening as he thought about what he'd say with Tim just looking so expectantly up at him.

"No, what?" he asked. And Jason replied by poking his nose and kissing the top of his head.

"You, squirt." And Tim's smile made even Dick falter just a bit, and as he watched Jason slowly tuck Tim into bed giving him a snicker and a few jokes here, he walked away with a smile of his own.

They weren't perfect at all, far from it. But they'd make their own fairytale their way.

* * *

"So, you're my Wendy?"

"Shut _the fuck_ up, okay?"


	3. Mother Dearest

**shybugbatty****asked you:**

If you're still accepting prompts, I'd love to see some Bruce/Dick. Just their everyday lives together. Or with the whole "Damian has two daddies" kind of idea that's been going around. Thanks! - Marissa

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**A/N:** _Okay, I hope this is okay for you! This is actually the first time I've ever written these two together, so I'm not exactly sure if I captured their dynamics or not as a couple. But thank you for giving me this chance! I'm sorry it took so long. With the JayTim even and my online class, a lot of my time had been sucked up, but I hope you like it. I personally struggled near the end because I didn't know how to end it. DX But uh, yeah. Hopefully enjoy, yes? :3_

* * *

**Mother Dearest**_  
__BruDick_

Bruce searched the cityscape through a pair of binoculars. He briefly wonders if Dick had anything to do with the fact that the pair built into his suit are broken, but he doesn't say anything about it. At least this time he didn't pull out hello kitty ones. Dick was predictable like that now. It just took Bruce one time to realize this.

"Boo." And that wasn't surprising either. Bruce could see Dick clearly from where he was hanging upside down. His mask was hiding his otherwise bright blue eyes that he could tell where just dancing with mischief, and the corners of his lips curled up in devilry. Bruce could feel his eye twitching at the thought of the young man and his trickster behavior.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a sigh, and he saw Nightwing _pout_. "What?"

"No Spiderman kiss?" The man even had the audacity to look disappointed.

"What did you expect?" Batman replied gruffly before he took a step to the side and continued to observe the streets below.

"Such a prude," Dick scoffed, sliding down the line and tugging it free once his feet touched the ground. "You always kill the fun." Bruce didn't even have the humility to act guilty.

"You're right. Next is joy," he drawled. He heard the young vigilante huff before he leaned against the roof railing.

"Where's the squirt?" he asked in idle conversation. "Still grounded?"

"You bet," Bruce replied. At least for a week more. Bruce didn't really approve of Damian trying to stab Tim at every opening possible. Their constant fighting always seemed to give him that inevitable headache that lasted for a few hours. He really didn't appreciate the fact that Damian tried to main the older boy. This family was _so_ dysfunctional.

"Did you only ground him from the field?" Dick inquired.

"And Alfred's scones." Dick then proceeded to look at Bruce like he drowned a few puppies.

"That's just _cruel_," the younger vigilante breathed out, and for a second, he nearly thought he saw the bat smirk.

"He's been behaved though," he said, his deep voice rumbling through his chest.

"Remind me not to piss you off."

"Gladly."

* * *

"… Bruce, what are you doing?" Dick asked one morning as he made his way downstairs and found the man in the kitchen. _Cooking_. Or at least what he assumed the man to be doing. The gruff man just looked at him, holding a spatula as he stood by the stove.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He was even wearing Alfred's apron, but he even tied it wrong. He had flower all over the article of clothing, and it even got on his pants, and the island was a chaotic mess.

"Why are you cooking?" he asked warily. Dick was afraid to step foot onto the tiled floor because Bruce was obviously having trouble with such a simple task. Not that he, himself, was any better.

"I gave Alfred a week's vacation," was Bruce's response, and Dick visibly blanched.

"You're insane, you know that? Did he tell you you're insane? Because you are."

Bruce sighed irately as he tried to get the (what the _hell_ was that? Batter?) quickly burning substance in the pan to unstick. "Yes, he informed me of such."

"… And he just left?" Dick inquired, completely bewildered.

Another aggravated sigh that nearly turned into a hiss. "_Yes_."

Dick paused with his interrogation as Bruce struggled with what he presumed to be pancakes, and the entire thing turned to charcoal.

"You know, for being a genius, you don't know the first step to being Alfred," Dick jibed playfully, finally daring to step foot in the kitchen.

"Like you're any better. You'd live out on pizza and take out if you could," Bruce grumbled, disgruntled because the damned pancakes kept sticking to the pan. _Why?_

"True, but I think it's universally known that you grease the pan before putting batter in it. You know, so it doesn't stick," Dick said with a wide, jovial grin. Bruce wasn't exactly sure on what to say because, Christ, this is a bit embarrassing, so he just glared at him, swiped the PAM spray from him, and began to grumble. "You're welcome," he purred, draping himself over Bruce's shoulders like the octopus he was.

Only half an hour later and there was a putrid smell emitting from the kitchen. When Dick said he couldn't cook, man, he meant it.

"You're seriously horrible at this," Bruce huffed. "You're no better than me."

"At least I accept and admit that I'm horrible," Dick huffed back at him as he dumped more of the lumpy batter, which was no longer edible, into the garbage.

"At least I didn't drop all the eggs and accidentally step on them."

"Okay, hey, that was partially _your_ fault because you–"

"What on earth are you _doing_?"

Both Dick and Bruce put a pause on their bickering due to the new addition in the kitchen. Who was currently coughing and covering his nose with his hand.

"Oh, hi Dami," Dick greeted and then lightly smacked Bruce's cheek because he had flour on his hand. Damian gave them both sour looks, eyes watering from the smoky smell.

"Move," he ordered them, stepping past them without waiting for a response. Bruce grunted at him, about ready to say something, but Damian beat him to it. "You two obviously have no clue on how to make a single crêpe. I'll take over from here. Clean up the counter."

Dick shared a look with Bruce before he started to clean up the counter, and Bruce cleaned up the floor, the two still bickering at each other. It's what they did best.

"_You should be cleaning the floor. You're the one who dropped the eggs."_

"_Yes, but Damian said to clean the counter. I'm doing that."_

"_He told us _both_ to clean the counter."_

"_But then he yelled at you because he stepped on an egg."_

"_But that's your fault."_

"_But I'm not the one who's cleaning it, now am I?"_

"_But I'm Batman."_

"_That makes no sense–"_

"_Be quiet, you two!"_

It was a miracle. By the time the two men had finished cleaning (and acting like they were ten), Damian had finished the breakfast. It even looked and smelled edible. Whoa.

"You two are banned from the kitchen," Damian drawled as he set the food on the table.

"Aww, Dami. You do care," Dick hummed and bat his eyelashes at him.

"I will call you disgusting 'mom' synonyms and degrade your masculinity."

"Bruce, he's a mini you. Make it stop," Dick huffed as he pointed at the younger boy who scoffed but looked smug anyway. And Bruce just smirked to himself behind his coffee mug.

"You're back on the field," was all he said, and Dick's face was priceless.

"_Cruel_." Dick didn't even know half of it.

Damian even went out of his way to buy a pink mini dress for Dick the next week. You know, for when he had to go undercover and crossdress.

"_Pink is _not _my color!"_

"_Father seems to think it is," Damian had drawled with that evil, stupid smirk._

The joys of being a parent.


End file.
